A Dozen Roses
by oldfrenchskies
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy made a decision that winter night...a decision that had many parts to it. This story reads as a puzzle. Enjoy.


Let me tell you a story. The story of a Frenchman who was so hopelessly alone, that he made a wish that Wednesday night while staring out into the vast countryside he called home.

Francis Bonnefoy was a man of many secrets, a man who had seen more than he had let on. For the first parts of his life he wholeheartedly believed immortality suited him, but he soon learnt about the twisted fate he'd have to live with; forever.

The events that lead such a headstrong man into throwing 6 shiny silver coins into his 'wishing well' were not events he wished to relive. It takes a lot to bend harder substances- but when they're broken there's no going back. In fact, every one of those events had a name.

The first one went by Arthur.

And so did the last one, but the ones in between were hard to differentiate.

_Arthur Kirkland was his name and life was his game, or so he thought. Mister Kirkland was a wealthy man, one with no worries when he went to bed about food or shelter. The only worries he had were about how he was going to spend his lonely days after nights of immoral and faded satisfaction. It was when Arthur Kirkland owned an estate up in Northern Ireland was when monsieur Bonnefoy had nothing to his name._

_Having been born in England to English parents, Arthur lived in that same country for 17 years of his life, then he moved to find his purpose. The reason he woke up every morning. To put it simply: he was going the wrong way. _

_Mister Kirkland bought his first farm on August second, and his manor on December of that same year. The manor was a cold one, one that was newer for that time but that held some kind of ancientness in the halls; in the way the curtains seemed to crack open every once in a while, allowing the pale moonlight to illuminate the narrow halls. It was in those very hallways that Arthur would find himself huddled over a book or snogging a woman he'd met at one of the balls he was invited to. Arthur tore through all the books he'd brought from home and bought in this strange new environment. He tore through the pages until not even the welcoming scent of his books could satisfy him. Had he been a kin to the king, his need for satisfaction and thirst for knowledge might have driven him to being the next Macbeth; but Arthur got his money the fair way, from his parents. _

_One lazy Thursday afternoon, after having washed up, Arthur stumbled across a book behind his history books. It was the kind of book you'd heard about in a scary story, or one you'd see in your nightmares. _

_It is to be noted that Arthur Kirkland was a victim, but he acted as he did by his own will. _

_Hours and hours past by, and there were always more pages for the Englishman to read. The information was mind boggling. Arthur needed to know more. He poured himself into the book as he absorbed the queer information given to him. 'All I need is a cauldron,' he thought to himself. This strange book got the gears in his head turning as they once did a while ago in England. He was excited to get to work. _

_It took him a few tries, but one January evening when he was all alone, the lonely Englishman made a wish. He made the wish as he dropped 6 rose petals into his solution of plant leaves and mud. _

_"Mihi quod quaero. Et sic donum vel maledictum: dabo eum ad me, et ego suscipiam te," (I'm looking for it. Thus a gift or a curse, give it to me, and I will accept you.) what was he summoning? He wouldn't know until the summertime. _

_Within those 6 months, Arthur decided the whole concept of witchcraft was pointless and an invitation to be investigated by the government. He threw his black cauldron out, along with his frog eyes. _

_The poor man- in an emotional sense, had no idea what was coming, and just how hard it would be to let go when the time came. _

_It was the 19th of June when some lad came rapping at Arthur Kirkland's french doors. This young man seemed to have everything Arthur lusted for- in a woman. He had the softest blue eyes with a fair complexion and sleek blond hair, and his lips were as pink as rosebud. Everything was perfect- until he spoke._

_"Hello ? I was told this was where to find monsieur Kirkland?" what was a Frenchy like this man doing all the way up in Ireland? "Allô ?"_

_"Yes yes hello. This is him," he rolled his eyes. He didn't need to answer to a French boy, and he was definitely not in the mood._

_"Ah hello mister Kirkland, may I come in? I was asked by mister Smith to have er," he smiled awkwardly, "some crumpets and yea with your Englishness." Arthur couldnt help but feel offended at that, so being the petty man he was he did not let the man in._

_"Tell mister Smith I am ill," he forced a fake cough, "come back another time?" he smirked a bit._

_"Of course monsieur," Francis sighed and wondered where he went wrong; and how on earth this Arthur Kirkland was such a bad actor. He'd be back. _

_A fortnight later, the Frenchman decided to try again. This time it was for a mix of his own purposes and mister Smith's of course._

_"Allô !" he didn't bother masking the accent. It seemed to tick the perfectly smug smile off the other man's face._

_"Back again are we?" well that was obvious._

_"I was hoping by now you'd be free of your illness," Francis smiled sweetly, "now may I enter?"_

_"Just don't touch anything," Arthur turned around; he was talking to this strange man as if he were a child. "Most of it is worth more than you."_

_"I will keep that in mind," Francis rolled his eyes and took a look around. To be perfectly honest, Francis had no idea just what he was worth- but he knew it couldn't be much. The only person he had value to was...hm...his mother._

_"So what did mister Smith need? He couldn't come down himself? He had to send an errand boy?" _

_He'd find out soon enough._

_"Mister Kirkland?" the Frenchman asked after staring at a vase the other man had out. _

_"Yes?" he didn't bother ask for his name, "I told you not to touch anything remember?" _

_Being used to this patronizing tone from his superiors, Francis just nodded and proceeded to ask his question, "this is French non ?" _

_"How am I supposed to know," he stated bluntly. When he dreamed of company during all the nights he spent alone, this wasn't what he had in mind. _

_"The signature mister Kirkland. I have never heard of an Englishman with the last name Couture," he was tempted to touch the mess of paint and clay that worked together to form the masterpiece the vase was. _

_"Did you want something?"_

_"Ah oui. Monsieur Smith wanted to invite you to a gala he was hosting. I do wonder mister Kirkland," the blond man thought out loud, "what will you wear?"_

_"I- you can go now, thank you. I have received the invitation and I am sorry to inform you- or rather mister Smith that I will be unable to attend the gala. I feel as though my cold will come back. On uh- what day did you say the gala would be?"_

_"Tomorrow sir," Francis rolled his eyes._

_"Yes. The cold is already coming back I'm afraid," as he lied so fantastically, he ushered Francis out of the door and eventually got to closing it. _

_"Ah monsieur Smith it is simply no use! Arthur will not come. That is sad non? He seems lonely," the two men had grown fond of each other. _

_"Lighten up Francis. I will send you to mister Beilschmidt's house. I'm sure you'll find a better and more friendly man there. Yes, Gilbert should be interested in the gala- that's more than I can say for Arthur. _

_"Yes sir. Merci sir," he nodded and retired to his quarters. _

_Once he was left alone with his thoughts, he let his mind wander off to the peculiar Englishman he met in Ireland. _

_That man really was something else.. how old was this man? He seemed awfully lonely for a man his age. Francis allowed himself to think about his own future while thinking of the odd man; would he be lonely as Arthur was? Would he ever have a family? Would he go back to France? Hm. _


End file.
